


Guard's Log

by TheLanternWretch



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Gen, General Unpleasantness, History, Journal Entries, back story, headcanons, mention of bodily fluids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-15 02:09:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 10,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16924533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLanternWretch/pseuds/TheLanternWretch
Summary: Delve into the decent to madness as Thresh, still alive and trapped underground and guarding cursed magical objects, shares his daily experiences VIA old abandoned journals that would otherwise be lost to time.





	1. Guard's Log, Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr, I wrote Thresh in a League role playing community. After the lore update, i realized I had to come up with a backstory for him. Who was he? How did he get where he was? What happened to the Blessed Isles? Was Thresh even his name? Unsure of how to explore this, i thought it would be a fun idea if this character kept a journal to chronicle his adventures in guard duty while making sure to reference specific events in the lore history that Riot provided. From simple farm boy with a troubled past to a terror-inducing guard trapped underground, this is where my interpretation of this character went.
> 
> PLEASE NOTE: I am tagging this as NSFW for upsetting, unpleasant, and possibly triggering material. Read at your own risk.

**T** here was an attempted break-in the past week. An outsider snuck into the order’s main building and tried to force their way into the sanctum where the collected artifacts were held. Thankfully, one of the order caught the thief in time before they managed to grab anything dangerous. They were forced to board a ship with a departing fleet from the Isles to prevent a second attempt. However, the brothers and sisters are unsettled. This wasn’t the first time rumors spread of items of great power and magic attracting unwanted attention.

 **L** ast night, a council was called to figure out a plan to prevent any further robbery incidents. They decided to move the artifacts deep underground in the labyrinth of the catacombs. Their logic is that they are always adding on to the tunnels to accommodate the members of the Order and their families that pass away year after year as they have been for seemingly countless years, now. The maze would be hard for anyone without a guide to navigate. They have chosen a rather spacious room and spent all night fortifying the walls and door with worked iron and enchantments. Some of the lower members of the order were asked to move each thing down into its new resting place.

      **H** owever, a guard needs to be present at all times to sound the alarm, should someone make it that far. These relics can’t fall into the hands of someone who could use them for evil - their power is far too great! The elders consorted and decided on their man. I was asked if I could handle such a task. Of course I said yes immediately! I’m at least a foot taller than any of them and boast a decent amount of muscle from the strenuous labor that I do around the grounds and in the fields. I suppose having farmers as parents has their perks, building muscle being one. They also said something about me being the most reliable and dedicated, as I haven’t faltered with any task I was given so far. It’s such an honor to be given this role, even if it seems meaningless for now.

      **T** onight is the first night I am at my post. They have given me some rations to keep me fed, a large jug of water, books, a chamber pot, a small bed to sleep in, some candles and a lantern, and a key for the vault. The room I now get to live in is no larger than the tiniest bedroom far above the ground in the temple. It holds what I need and the vault’s locked door is always within sight. Hallway, my room, vault. I’d like to see anyone break in through two metal doors. The night has been peaceful and I’ve been enjoying the solitude and quiet from the usual activity and prayers from above. I should be receiving a proper meal soon - my stomach’s been growling for half an hour now. 

      **A** side from no one to talk to, this new position isn’t so bad. It seems like it’s going to be easy work and I’m sure once their paranoia calms down, I’ll be allowed to venture away from this room now and then for a change of scenery. Thankfully, this journal will be a good break in my day for something exciting. I must thank the Elders for gifting me with a stack of blank books to keep me entertained. It’s the least they could have done before they locked me in here. Oh well, this can’t go on for more than a month. I’ll be out soon.

\- A. T. 


	2. Guard's Log, Day 3

I officially spent three full days locked down here underground. I’m surprised I’ve only just started to grow a little restless. The council and rest of the order doesn’t seem eager to repeal their need for a vault guard any time soon, sadly. I was hoping maybe by now, they would have thought that the idea was silly. Regardless, I have high hopes that they’ll eventually think it’s foolish and just lock both these doors without me stuck between them. 

Since I have a lot of time on my hands, I started cataloging everything that was down here the best I can. Things were tossed into the vault messily and it was hard to see where anything was. I asked the member that brought me food if they can get me something that I can touch the items with. They more than complied with my request! They brought me a heavy trench coat to cover my arms and any bits of raw skin that could brush against the artifacts. It’s a little long and drags in back, but it’ll do. The order was nice enough to give me thick thread and a needle to do repairs, if I need. They also brought me iron gauntlets and greaves. Supposedly, iron is supposed to keep foul magic at bay? I don’t know if I believe that, but it beats stepping on something sharp and possibly laced with poison or touching something cursed with bare hands. The tips of the fingers on the gauntlets are rather sharp; I nearly cut myself open handling them, thinking the points would be dull. Probably came from a soldier or something the blacksmith concocted for fun. Either way, them and the boots fit well enough.

After getting those, I suited up and entered the vault. The power you can feel radiating from everything is humbling! I got to my work, moving and rearranging things. I tried to have some sort of order going, some sort of organization. For example, the spiked glove that seems to always be cold to the touch is now stored next to the hammer that glistens with enchanted ice instead of the cape that radiates a heat like fire. I wrote everything down in a list (See previous page in journal.) that I moved so far. I never realized how much is actually in here! No wonder someone wants to get their hands on this stuff. Though, I must say, I get a creepy feeling being in there, like I’m being watched. I wonder if the objects are spellbound enough that they are somewhat conscious? That would be rather illogical, though.

I will have to finish cataloging everything at some point. I have more than enough time to get this done! 

Curious to know how mother is doing on the farm without me. I know she understood the need to help the order first and foremost but I do hope she’s alright. She’s rather old and can’t do as much as she used to, especially with her non-stop drinking. Hopefully, I’ll get to return home to set everything back in order.

\- A. T.


	3. Guard's Log, Day 7

I can’t help but feel I’ve lost track of time down below the order’s headquarters. I think I’ve been down here in isolation for a week, now. I think the runner that brought me a basket of bread and cheese informed me it was day four, but that was ages ago. I also think that they gave me more food than they actually did. I finished it all and they’re not coming to supply me with more. My stomach is growling and feels like it’s starting to eat itself. The water can only sate my hunger for so long. Perhaps I can snack on the leather from one of the books in the vault.

Speaking of that vault, there’s something about it I don’t like. I can’t put my finger on it but I feel like I’m stuck in the gaze of a large predator. The hair on the back of my neck keeps standing on end and I find myself becoming increasingly jumpy and constantly peeking over my shoulder at it. Even now as I write this, I continue to glance backwards at the trove’s door. Perhaps being close to such strong magical items and the burden I bear is playing tricks on me. I know for a fact I’m the only one in this room. Why, I can see every corner of it from here and the key to the vault hasn’t moved from where I last left it. 

No word yet on being allowed to leave the room from the council of Elders. They’re remaining paranoid longer than I anticipated. I don’t like it. Perhaps someone will come to relieve me of my post. I’ll trade out with someone else for a week or two and we’ll take turns. They can’t leave me down here, can they? No, no, of course they wouldn’t!

Though, that said, I am curious as to why my next meal hasn’t been brought to me, yet. The order wouldn’t forget the guard in their basement! That would be ridiculous.

\- A. T.


	4. Guard's Log, Day 20

I am fully convinced that they have forgotten about me. I got only one more small delivery of rations and it was quickly slid through the door. It has to have been at least a week ago! No one came with food or to empty the chamber pot in the corner since. I can’t live on this jug of water! Already, it’s starting to grow stale. The dank air it’s in is doing no wonders in keeping it fresh. No matter, desperation breeds ingenuity! I unlocked the vault and rooted around in a few things. I found a rapier, no doubt probably cursed with a spell that begs to be sated with blood, and used it to the pick the lock on the door leading out of the chamber. It was the only chance I got and I managed to pop the lock after many hours of attempts and a few choice words. 

I forgot what the sun had looked like, and I still don’t know. I found my way out of the catacombs only to pull myself from the underground at night! No one in the order was awake. Probably sleeping in their little cozy beds, content in forgetting about the guard they placed underground to keep their stupid trinkets safe. The very idea that they made such a big deal about it only to neglect to care for me?! INFURIATING. But you know what? I’ll play their little game. I am able to leave the vault’s annex at will, now. 

Journeying back below, I picked up a few things. The first thing I did was empty my chamber pot. Not outside, oh, no no no. I emptied it right on the floor of the galley. I’ll let the brothers who are doing the food preparation for the next day deal with that. Perhaps they should have held to their end of their promise to keep me as comfortable as possible. The more they ignore and forget about me, the more I will empty my own filth around the building. After all, if they forgot about me, I won’t be suspect, especially if they think I’m locked in there.

I also did the unthinkable and left the building. I took a long bath in the nearby pond, hidden by the tall reeds and cattails. It felt so good to get the grime out of my hair and the dirt from my skin. My hair is getting long. It’s past my ears, now. Almost touching my shoulders. I should have asked someone to trim it before I went into the bullshit guard duty, but I didn’t think I’d be down there for this long. However, I’m clean and I must say, I feel more alive than I have in the past two weeks! 

After I quickly dressed, I went back inside to collect my things. I rinsed out my little toilet under the water pump in the kitchen, leaving more of a lovely mess for them, but not before I refilled my water jug with fresh and clean water. I also stole a basket and filled it with some fruit and bread and a lump of cheese. That was to come with me. I engorged myself upon some salted meat I stole from the larder and a generous helping of wine. I won’t make too many of these trips back upstairs, but I am curious to see if they remember to check on me in the future. 

Maybe they wanted me out of the way. Maybe they wanted to sacrifice someone to their vault of treasure. Maybe they wanted me to perish and use me as an example for anyone trying to steal from them. Maybe even use my death as an excuse to move these objects somewhere else! Well, I hate to break it to them, but I don’t die easy. The Kindred won’t be visiting that little annex for a long, long time.

Your move, brothers. Stick to your promise and remember the one man you stuck with this job or else my little game will get worse. You’ll remember me eventually. 

-A.T.


	5. Guard's Log, Day 63

I have taken matters into my own hands. Not once have they checked on me in whoever knows how long. No company, routinely sneaking out to get food and do things that should be done for me as a thank you for this guard position. I think they just wanted to get rid of me. Did they think I was a threat? Was I going to be a future problem to those frail old fools? Because I’m sure as hell a problem now. Ahh, but they brought his upon themselves! They should have remembered me instead of getting so cozy up above! 

Mornings have been an absolute riot anymore. I eat what’s not mine and leave remnants behind for them to find. I purposely knock things over and break items and let the mess sit there to be discovered. I started emptying my chamber pot in creative places - the fireplace, the dining tables, even in a pair of shoes left behind! The chaos it creates! Everyone screaming and yelling at each other, demanding who is so out of line! Sometimes I skulk below them in the catacombs just to hear it. Speaking of which, I’m starting to learn these tunnels. I have officially memorized the way from the upper floor to my vault room and I’m learning short cuts and which ways are dead ends. This labyrinth of bone and death is no longer as intimidating as I once thought.

Speaking of bones, I went on a date the other night. Crawled out of the underground here and left during the night to do my usual rounds. I was climbing out of the pond when I saw the cutest little lady wandering down the road. She was pulling a cart, no doubt a peddler making her way to her morning’s stop early. I met her on the road in only my trousers and boots and gave her a friendly smile. She was so naive, so innocent. Sweet talking her into letting me help her with her cart was nothing. I pulled it for her for a bit and we chatted about whatever came to our minds. I told her the short cut through the patch of woods ahead was quicker than following the usual path she was aiming for - it would cut the time in half. Hidden in the trees, she let it slip that her grandfather was in the order nearby. One of the elders, no doubt. Oooh, how that made my blood boil! They’ll put someone else’s flesh and blood underground to rot but not their own! 

I forced myself upon her, letting my anger at my predicament find its own way of venting itself. Imagine what fun will occur if she decides to say someone from the order had their way with her! I’m still locked in the vault, after all. It’s not me. Sure enough, I heard a lot of screaming above the next day. Accusations pointed left and right between the younger men, and the crying of what could only be that young lady. Surprisingly, I heard footsteps echoing through corridors getting closer to my room. I’m no fool. I stole a second key on one of my journeys above and now lock the door back up from the inside after each outing. They grabbed the handle and tried to open it, but it was locked. This seemed to satisfy them, as they apparently turned and left. Couldn’t have been me if I’m in here, hmm? I’m so glad I’m remembered when I could possibly be punished for something that happens in nature so often. 

That little fiasco aside, I’ve taken to leaving the vault door open. The feeling of unease is gone. Instead, I feel comforted by the magic seeping from the opened door. I talk to some of the items, sometimes. They talk back now and then, you know. You just have to listen. Not all do. Some louder than others. It’s hard to make out words, but I’ve jotted down a few things here and then when I can catch them. They may start to prove to be better company than anyone upstairs, that’s for sure. These items have no choice but to show me respect, unlike THEM. 

I picked up a lantern from within the trove the other day as well. A good, sturdy thing. Much nicer than the piece of junk they gave me. It’s cool to the touch and candles seem to burn much longer within it, but maybe that’s just me. It sits on my desk now and though I replace the candles I have within it to have proper light, it still seems sadly empty. I feel something should go inside of it, but what else do you put in a lantern? 

\- A. T.


	6. Guard's Log, Day 104

Those fools upstairs. I’m starting to realize putting me down here was one of the best things they could have ever done! Why, I thought I was going to hate it! I did, at first, but that was before I heard them speak! The items they have me guarding, the relics, they are conscious! They can understand me and I understand them. They keep me busy. They talk to me. I don’t think I’m going mad. I can hear them perfectly fine, now! It took me a while. Took me a few nights sleeping in the vault itself and trying to find which ones were talking to me. 

A mirror caught my attention. I feel like this mirror is showing a second me, not just my reflection. I’ve been looking at it for a while now, trying to understand how it works. It almost feels like it knows when I’m holding it. I can feel it shudder if I run the tip of my finger down the polished silver. I wonder, can these objects feel pleasure? Can they feel pain? I started with this mirror. I put on my protective gauntlets and dragged the tip of one claw down the glass.I could feel it! The mirror didn’t actually move, but its essence! It’s soul. I felt it writhe in agony! 

Fascinating! I wonder what else has a reaction like this! So many other things to try. I will have to see what reacts the best, what calls to me the most. 

I made another journey to the surface but it was quick. Stole food, snuck a bath, and took more bottles of ink and some fresh quills and pens. One of the pens i took is very fancy, made from what looks like a peacock feather. Lovely, just lovely! It’s mine now. Everything in this entry was added with it, actually. Writes very smooth. While up there, I am happy to report that evidence shows that the relations in the order may be strained because of me. What a shame! 

No idea what became of that girl I deflowered. Not my problem, though I am curious to know what happened to her. 

\- A. T.


	7. Guard's Log, Day 169

I no longer care about the order above me. Not even torturing them is fun anymore. They no longer hold an interest to me. These items, though. They’ve been nicer to me than anyone has ever been. They talk to me. They whisper me secrets. Did you know there’s an item in this vault that can bring someone back from the dead? The other items told me about it. It’s a beautiful golden placard that radiates the energy of life itself with a set of delicate wings carved into the back of it. Wear it and be resurrected should you die. That’s what the items in vault told me. I tucked this one safely back into a corner so I know where to find it, should I ever need it. 

Some items, though, have been difficult. They won’t talk to me like the others do or if they do, they chastise me for listening to the others! The others have shown me power - shown me secrets! Thanks to some of them, I started learning magic of my own! I will take what I can and become more than just a guard or the son of a farmer. I will become great. They will know the name Arrin Thresh for years to come! But those items that stand in my way… I made sure they knew who was in charge. I started with that Mirror. I continued to scratch the surface and finally, I could hear it scream. The scratches weren’t deep! No, no, I didn’t want to leave behind any trace that I was punishing those that needed to be punished! A little bit of armor polish and a rag I nicked from a broom closet upstairs did the trick and removed the shallow scratches. Every time that Mirror gave me attitude, I only continued to give it more reminders and remove them when done.

The book was next. It claimed it was some sort of ‘amplifying tome’ to enhance magic but it refused to lend its power to me. Naughty, naughty book. I cracked the spine open and pulled the thread binding the pages, letting the book scream for me to stop. I could feel it shuddering in my hand as I removed each page, one at a time, without ripping them. It begged for me to stop, to show mercy, but it refused to grant me any sort of arcane knowledge or magic. I was almost 40 pages in before it cracked, promising me help should I repair what I’ve done. I used the needle and thread I was given to repair my uniform to mend the pages. I was careful - so careful! It looks like it had never been touched in it’s life. As promised, the book revealed some of it’s hidden wisdom to me. 

My skill in any magic is laughable at the moment, but I am getting better. I have had time to practice. I managed to move my quill slightly to the left by my own will. I hope that someday, my ability to manipulate objects without touching them will be great. But I will practice until then! 

I heard a noise at the chamber door a few nights ago. It sounded like someone was trying the handle to get in but failed. I wonder if they were checking on me. I doubt it. I no longer exist to them. As far as I’m concerned, they no longer exist to me either. Taking this job was the best decision I ever made. I will grow in power, in knowledge. To ensure that I will be able to be the strongest not only in magic but in might, I have started to exercise. I have so much free time down here that I need to do something to keep myself entertained when I no longer crave the lessons of a book or tool. I’m already so fit from my life of working the fields with my family. I only have to keep up and improve.

\- A. T.


	8. Guard's Log, Day 286

What a treat! Such an unexpected thing happened to me! Imagine me, sitting in my vault, sweating after my usual exercising and idly practicing the levitation spell I found. Not only have I managed to move my quill without touching it, I have started to master the art of making multiple things float and move by mere thought alone! It tires me out as the magic requires much, but I have excelled past what I was about to do! Now, I was practicing this magic on a stack of heavy tomes when I heard the door being unlocked. The Order had forgotten all about me and their little dangerous trove of whispering treasures, so who was this? I hid in the vault, under a pile of discarded armor and capes and watched.

It was some scrawny little human! Now, how did he get here unnoticed? I continued to watch and, sure enough, he made his way to the vault. He’s cautious, looking at my messy bed and seeming to sense something. He muttered some words and points what appeared to be a stick at my desk. There was a light. I’m not sure what happened but it was definitely spell work. So a little witch decided to come sneaking in? This will be very fun.

Without choosing to investigate further, the fool comes into the vault and carefully starts touching things. His disgusting little hands were just getting all over everything I worked so hard to keep clean! We can’t have that, no. No, no, no! Now was the perfect time to try what I had been working on. Keeping hidden, I pointed at a heavy bust of some unknown figure on a shelf and silently cast that levitation spell. It rose into the air without a sound, the intruder unaware. It’s tough work but I maneuvered it over his head and cut the flow of magic from my hand. It fell and struck him on the head and he went down. The statue was made of metal - aside from the noise, it was fine. The little thief was not. I watched as blood flowed openly from his unmoving head, face down on the stone floor.

I emerged from my hiding spot. How clever I am! But now the question begs - what do I do with the body? Perhaps I can leave it in the kitchen upstairs. That would give them a good scare. The thought alone makes me cackle as I made my way over and bent down to pick him up. To my surprise, I noticed something. The wound in his head had started to heal! I was unsure what to do besides grabbing the wand out of his hand and snapping it, just to be safe. Was he still alive? He had to have been. He was starting to breathe again. Panic started to set in in the back of my mind but I am clever, after all! There was a pair of manacles attached to some old Warden’s armor here. I navigated to it - it was kept in its proper place, right next to a curiously sharp and curved sickle-looking blade. I snatched them from the belt and restrained the man’s wrists behind his back. Still, that left his legs perfectly capable of working.

I needed more time. I dragged his body over to the stack of spell books I was reading and I continued to read, albeit at a quicker pace. Every time he started to stir, I hit him repeatedly on the head till he stopped moving, again and again. I never got blood on my protective gauntlets before, but I would be sure to wipe them off before attending to the precious materials in here. My attentive reading finally turned up something that could be useful. It was a spell for fusing an object with another. I already worked up some fortitude in spellcraft from the days and days of that hovering charm so I rolled up my sleeves and decided to try. I found a section of wall in the back of the vault that was bare and, making sure to render the wizard unconscious again, I pressed the iron chain of the manacles against the stone. Holding the book with the other hand, I made some sort of motion with my arm and fingers and pronounced the words the best I could.

The metal slid right into the stone! It wasn’t the prettiest bit of work but I was beyond pleased at how well they held! Even with me holding with two hands and pressing a foot against the wall and tugging, I couldn’t remove the iron chains that had become one with the wall. Now, I only have to figure out what to do when he wakes up. At least he’s stuck in one spot and won’t be leaving any time soon - I don’t have the key for those cuffs. 

I returned back to my bed, exhausted. So much magic done today, and one spell I was unfamiliar with! I am finishing this entry while I can hear the items in the next room hissing at the unwelcome presence. It’s alright, my lovelies. We’ll take care of him, somehow. For now, I am tired and need to sleep.

\- A.T.


	9. Guard's Log, Day 348

What bliss! The scrawny wizard has proven to be the best thing that has happened to me in a long, long time. Every blow to the head I gave him healed, so I decided to investigate this interesting catch. I made my way back to the curved sickle-like blade that was near the old Warden mail in the corner and investigated it. It was a little rusty, but there seemed to be some kind of charm on it for it to keep its sharpness, to prevent it from dulling. I returned to the half-conscious wizard and made a quick slash on his arm.

He screamed - blood squirted from the severed arteries in his arm. Not wanting to attract attention to the order and make them come down and investigate the place and person they had forgotten, I knocked the wizard out yet again. I cut his tongue out of his mouth. Would that heal as well? If it did, I would just keep cutting the muscle out. Sure enough, the process of regeneration began. The cut started to heal and the tongue started to grow back, though it seemed regrowing a full muscle was taking more time. 

Curiosity got the better of me. I tore his robes from his body until he was naked and took to work. I was familiar with gutting pigs and cattle back on the farm - a human isn’t much different. I removed his genitals and slit him from throat to groin. The work was quick and sloppy; if my father had seen this butchering job on one of his own animals, I would have been beaten for sure, but I had never cleaned a human before. I tore the organs out, cleaning out the torso, using my hands to scrape anything out of the carcass and using the sickle blade to cut things loose that just wouldn’t come easily. 

Soon, I had a cadaver. His head hung lifeless, the organs I had pulled from him dissolving into ash and fluid on the floor. I sat and I watched. I watched the innards start to reform, the skin to start growing back at a decent pace. His chest started moving again as his life was returned. Whoever this wizard was, he was gifted with forever life.

It was a good day or two before he had recovered, looking unblemished and untouched like I hadn’t torn him apart. I tried talking to him but all he said were things like, “Please let me go!” and “I’m sorry!” Stupid man. Thieves get what they deserve. I spent every day carving him up in different ways, practicing and learning to steady my hand. The scythe I took from the vault worked with my hands wonderfully as though it were a part of my own arm. It stayed sharp and the curves on it allowed me to make minute slices and wide gashes - whatever I preferred. 

One day I flayed the skin from his skull and admired the bones underneath. Another day I explored his rib cage. He was my key for learning about the human body - I had never got to experience this before! Learning muscle and skeletal structure, how things moved, how they didn’t. 

I lost count of the days I spent on him. He just wouldn’t die. I kept bringing him food to ensure he didn’t die and I reluctantly cleaned up after him to prevent the smell from making me gag. 

While his immortality gives me practice, I wonder what it would be like to treat a regular human in this manner? What does death actually look like from this angle? I’ve only seen natural death but what happens when it’s murder? 

I think, perhaps, it’s time the Order was thinned out. There’s getting to be too many of them. They’re only flies now, ready to be swatted.

The objects cry out for attention but they will get them. I will let everyone see them, but they will not leave.

Tomorrow, I will practice my new arts on someone from the Order. I have my sights set on that pretty girl I ruined that was related to one of the Order Elders. I think I owe her a second date.

\- A. T.


	10. Guard's Log, Day 400

I did it. I prepared for days for what I wanted to do. I brushed up on the little bit of magic I learned and decided to venture out and get my mark. I waited till the night time when I was sure there was no one awake before I left the vault. Of course, before I left, I knocked out the wizard and tore his tongue from his skull so he couldn’t alert anyone to what I was up to with his screaming or to even be discovered. For extra precaution, I grabbed one of the sheets from my bed and tied it around his head like an over-sized blindfold to disorient him, should he come to before I was back. Once that was settled, I picked the lock on the vault door and went through the catacombs and up into the main building. 

To my surprise, there were now guards! Well, guards as in members of the Order standing awake in doorways with torches, patrolling. I couldn’t sneak past them with the armor on, or at least, the boots. I slid my feet out of them, the floor feeling weird against my skin - its been a while since I’ve taken those off. I snuck up behind them. It was almost comical; they were standing so close together. They made it so easy. I swung both my arms, knocking both of their heads together and watching them fall in a heap on the floor. I snuffed the torches that clattered to the floor and left them in the dark. One of them groaned and I hit him in the head with the heavy iron gauntlet I was wearing, ensuring he was definitely not awake. I hit the other too for good measure. Now, anyone was up for fair game, but I had a goal. A target.

I ran through the halls bare-foot, taking care to not make much noise as I peeked into dorm rooms left unlocked. They were too trusting of each other! Such stupidity. Don’t they know that any one of them can turn on another? Soon, I found who I was looking for. I remembered that tangled mess of mahogany hair anywhere. The same girl that I had ruined. Time for that second date. I went into her room and shut the door behind me. She stirred as it shut and I froze. I wasn’t nearly as silent as I thought I was being. I had to act quickly. I rushed at the bed, grabbing her and forcing my hand over her mouth. As expected, she snapped awake and started to struggle. Her screaming, while muffled, was still loud enough that someone could be alerted. I could have hit her on the head, but I risked killing her. I wanted her alive. As much as I didn’t want to, I had to. I curled my fingers around her face and I could feel the ends of the gauntlets tear into her flesh. I would be a liar if I said I wasn’t panicking a little as her screaming continued. Swiftly, I hit her round the back of the head and the shrieking stopped. There was no time to celebrate just yet, I heard movement in a nearby room and running in the hall. I threw her onto the bed and tossed the blankets over head. There was no place to hide but underneath the bed. I dropped and pulled myself under, and not a second later as I pulled my feet from view, the door opened. They regarded the woman on the bed, under the blankets, not moving. Would they look closer? They didn’t move. Neither did I. They started to take a few steps forward. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins and I heavily breathed, slowly, trying to sound relaxed. The footsteps stopped. I continued imitating the sound of someone breathing in their sleep the best I could. 

Dumb luck blessed me. The stupid monk actually bought it. He finally turned to leave, muttering something about night terrors and shut the door behind him. I waited, I don’t know how long, till I heard a door shut and footsteps coming to a halt. Confident, I pulled myself out from under the bed and dusted myself off. Sometimes my cleverness even surprises me! I finally snatched up my prize, throwing the girl over my shoulder. I noticed the dots of blood were left behind on her pillowcase. Nothing I could do about that - I flipped it over. Contented, I carried her carefully back to the entrance of the catacombs, slid my feet back into the sabatons I left behind and gleefully navigated back to the vault, stopping only to steal a length of rope and some metal loops from a supply closet. One appeared to be from a door knocker that was taken from the entrance hall, and another… I’m unsure what this was for. It’s mine now.

Once I got her into my little room, I shut and locked up the door behind me as I usually do, tossing her onto my rickety bed for the time being. The wizard was still out cold. Good. I used the same magic I did on the wizard’s cuffs to meld the iron rings to the wall of the vault next to him. They were even more embedded and sturdy than the quick job I did on his! Now I had a place to hold her while I dissected her and watched how a normal human would die. Just killing her would have been a waste, though, and she was still out cold.

She felt as good as she did the first time.

Satisfied, I then tied her to the wall tightly, double-knotting and triple-knotting her up until I felt comfortable enough. I tore some of her nightdress off and shoved it into her mouth. I tore off another length of it and tied it around her head, gagging her and making sure that material wasn’t going to be easily spit out. I repeated the process till she was also blindfolded. What a day. I collapsed onto the bed, feeling accomplished. 

How would the Order react to one of their own missing? Would they bother to check the vault? Who knows. They haven’t so far. We’ll see.

\- A. T.


	11. Guard's Log, Day 421

There is nothing quite like watching someone die before your very own eyes. To see the bit of hope get extinguished as they take their last breath. The death rattle that occurs once the soul leaves - sublime. It’s almost an art, the body shutting down. Though, this bitch was a feisty little thing! 

She woke me up, having the nerve to make a racket! I came into the room and our eyes met. I wish I could have saved the look on her face somehow when she saw who had her, who held her captive. The wizard next to her sat there, defeated, unmoving and watching me with eyes that have finally lost the will to live. Her, on the other hand, continued to try and free herself. What a spirit! What a fighter! It’s a shame I brought her here to break her. I didn’t want her to become a bigger problem than what she was so I dug around for that sickle I found a while ago. I yanked it out of the pile, the blade glinting in the light as I investigated it. The edge was as sharp as the day it was forged; that might have been the charm upon it, to never dull. Good enough for me!

I approached her, relishing in the way she tried to scurry away while being stuck to one spot. I slowed my pace, smiling, watching tears stream down her face. Through the scraps of fabric stuffed in her mouth, I heard her scream for help, for someone to find her… I think I even heard my own name in there somewhere. It didn’t matter, I brought her here for a purpose. Squatting down, I lifted the blade to make the first incision to remove what was left of her clothes when her dexterity surprised me. My guard being down led to her lashing out with a foot she had managed to curl up and kick with. She made contact with the blade, cutting the sole of her foot in the process, but rammed the sickle into my face.

 

My reaction time was fast enough to save my eye, but damage was done. The blade was stick into my face, lodged in my brow and cheek . The pain was excruciating as what happened sunk into my momentarily numb brain. Determined not to scream, I scrambled out of the room, holding it carefully. I knew if just yanked the blade out of the flesh and bone it was stuck in, I could be in trouble. I needed to find a way to close what was going to be a nasty, nasty wound…

The needle and thread I was given to repair my heavy coat! Of course! I located the supplies, then gingerly worked on removing the blade from my face. It hurt oh so much, rocking it back and forth to remove it without tearing too much off out of carelessness. Finally, it did slip free and I could feel the sting of the air over my open wound as the blood ran freely. Relieved, I could still see. The blade hadn’t pierced my eye itself! But I did have to work fast. I dug out the strange mirror I had found and toyed with before and propped it up against the wall as I sat, stringing the needle.

Each time I pierced the skin, I could feel my breath catch. The pain of constantly piercing my flesh was awful but after a few stitches, the pain started to grow more numb by the minute till it was almost like an annoyance. The stitching wasn’t the tidiest in the world, I was never good at sewing like my mother was, but it served its purpose. The gash was closed and I gave the string a good tug to make sure it was taut and the wound was entirely closed before I knotted and tied it off multiple times to keep it together. The sickle was used in a more friendly matter to myself, slicing off any excess thread. Even though my face was throbbing hard and I was still wiping off blood that seeped from the wound, I knew I had something to do.

 

I went back to her and took care of the problem. I sat on her thigh, my back facing her, and took her leg into my hand and bent it. I bent it until her muffled shrieks were accompanied by the sound of splintering bone as the knee shattered and her leg bent opposite of the way it was meant to fold. I repeated the process on the other side - she could no longer kick and defend herself. Then my plan proceeded as I had intended. I tore her night dress off, looking at my newer and much more attractive toy. The sharp sickle easily slipped through her skin as I made an incision from her throat to her groan. I cared not for the blood that rushed forth as I plunged my hands into her belly, gutting her like the pig she was. I could have been more careful but I was excited! I wanted to see her die. I wanted to know what it looked like and I wanted it now. Shockingly, she didn’t last too long. Her lead fell back, mouth agape and eyes rolling into their sockets as I watched the body twitch until it was no longer moving. 

Nearby, a sword called to me, thirsting for the blood that was dripping from her and I happily obeyed, plunging the blade into her chest cavity, the metal singing praises as the red fluid dripped down the edge and onto the ruby encrusted handle. I stood, looking down at what I had done. She looked beautiful. Somewhere in my loins, I felt a strange tinge. I had never gotten erect before at such a sight, but it felt right. The feeling of having someone’s life be in your hands and snuffing it out like a candle in a breeze tasted sweet, like a fine wine. A fine wine I realized wouldn’t run dry as there was a whole Order above me, waiting to have their fates sealed by me as well.

One by one, I will take them. I will kill them. Some, slower than others if they’re fun. Until then, I will reorganize some of these items and talk to them a bit more. There’s a frumpy blue wizard’s hat that needs to be moved as it seems to keep amplifying the aura of a nearby staff and they’ve been a little too chatty that it has become rather annoying. I wonder what will happen when the day comes when the entire order is wiped out?

-A.T


	12. Guard's Log, Day 422

If you’ve ever had the task of hiding a body, it can be rather difficult. What do you do with it? Where can you put it where you are not ruled as a suspicious person or never will be again? I haven’t a clue but you know what’s much easier? Framing someone to take the fall for you. I waited till nightfall came, till the Order was asleep. I wrapped the girl up in the bed sheets from my bed and carried her upstairs. Of course I waited till she bled out and the corpse dried out.I couldn’t have her dripping everywhere. Whatever was left was soaked up by the cotton sheet. I wasn’t going to use those anyway. I don’t need to sleep for long anymore. I have work to do. The items told me so.

I brought her into the kitchen and dropped her right on the table. For humor, I arranged her rigid body the best I could to look rather provocative, enough that if she weren’t dead, I might have indulged myself once again. A nearby meat carving knife in a wooden butcher’s block on a preparatory table next to a bowl of fresh fruit caught my eye. What a perfect weapon. I took it and smeared what was left of her blood on the handle, even slicing into the skin on her arms and legs to to make sure that silver blade was coated in beautiful crimson. I rolled the handle inside her body cavity, making sure it was coated in viscera, in her own carnage. Then I had the pleasure of picking a random room. 

Pressing my ear to the door, I waited. I listened. Whoever was in it was asleep. I grabbed the handle and tried to open it only to find it was locked. The handle of the door was covered in blood and I scolded myself for being careless. … but maybe…. I squatted down and saw the gap under the door was enough to fit the handle of the knife. Preparing myself to run if needed, I chucked the knife into the center of the room, the blade clattering on stone floor and blood dripping off in a few directions. I stood, fighting the urge to laugh and snuck back down into the winding corridors and into my vault. Learning from my mistakes, I used my jacket to grab the handle to prevent blood from getting onto it in case they came to see if I was somehow related. I doubt it; they think I died down here, a sacrifice to this vault, to haunt it, to keep it safe.

Once inside, I sighed, knowing it was only hours until she was found and man hunt began. Oh how wonderful that’ll sound. Of course whoever was in the room didn’t do it, but what could they do to prove they were innocent. Blood on their door, the knife in their room, the lack of any other suspect… and it was one of the higher Order’s daughter. Heads. Would. Roll. Speaking of heads…

I ventured into the vault, giving that stupid wizard another kick as I passed him by, peeking into the corner. There was a skull here and for the longest time, it remained dormant of showing any sort of magical properties. I really have no idea why it was here, but the entire time I messed with her, I swore I could feel it watching me. I still have the same eerie feeling, even now, holding it, staring at it. There’s nothing. It’s just a skull. It’s in here for a reason and at some point, I’m sure I’ll figure out why. For now, it’ll stay here.

Well, this was fun. I should really invite more people down below. I glanced over at the enchanted sickle and hummed. Yes, I would keep that on hand, I think. The tool is already familiar to me from the days I spent threshing wheat in the field. I find it’s easier to use than a sword or a spear. More versatile in the right hands. Shifting more things around in the vault, I had to light the heavy iron lantern they gave me to help see things better. The items want to be re-arranged. They’re telling me they want new places, new perches to see something different. They’re so picky.

So what’s on my future agenda? Get more people. Cut more open. Kill more of them. I’ve never felt so fulfilled in a purpose in my life. Slaughtering animals on the farm was never as fun as carving a person. I wonder how far I’ll get before they try to stop me. How many? Can I kill off the entire Order? That would be a horrible thing to happen if I were the last one standing. They’re already starting to fall apart with some of the things I’ve done. Their kinship is not as strong as it used to be.

The wizard is groaning, he’s healed enough. I think tonight, I’ll peel apart his legs and see how they work, where the nerves are, how the bones are set up… one part of a body at a time. 

\- A.T.


	13. Guard's Log, Day 560

Chaos has officially taken over upstairs. My routine has been the same. Steal one of them from the security of their beds once suspicion dies down and drag them below. I lost count of the bodies that are gathering in the corner, and how many I dragged outside to throw in the nearby river. The wizard is still here, he’s still my dummy to try new things on, but nothing compares to taking apart things that can die. Man, woman, they all die the same. I have dissected some painstakingly, others I have only just maimed. They always look shocked when they see who it was this whole time. They try pleading, some thought I was dead; one of them even let some information slip that only fueled my need to hurt every last one of them. It turns out they had picked me for this position in order to try and kill me, make it seem like an accident. If I were to die in service to the Order, no one would look guilty. Seems the havoc I had sewn in my town finally caused enough trouble to have people ask what to do with me. Turns out no one likes having their sons and daughters raped or strung along and their emotions played with. It took them long enough to trace everyone’s misery back to me… me, the one who always put on a kind face and helped everyone I could. It was too late, the hearts I broke and families I ruined were beyond repair. I had already proven myself to them as someone they’ll never be as great as, someone they can never strive to be. They had thought the magic in the items would have killed me. I was stronger than they had thought. I was stronger than they ever could have imagined and now they’re paying for it. They should have let me be, continue living my life, and watch their daughters more carefully. I would have liked the challenge, at least.

I stole items from above and made my own crude torture devices. With a few pieces of metal and a spring and some twine, I made something reminiscent of something I heard of once before, a Pear of Anguish. It does break frequently, but that only makes using it more fun. If it works like it was intended, it’s good. If it break and tears their insides open, that’s even better. I also caught a rat outside the vault door, sniffing about. My curiosity wandered - what would happen if… I took an enchanted brass bowl off the shelf and put the rat inside of it. The wizard, once again, my dummy, I slapped the bowl over his stomach with the critter in it and grabbed the nearby cape that emitted the heat of a fire. With my gauntlets protecting me from the magic that emitted from the fabric, I tossed it over the bowl, letting it heat up. There was only one way out for that mouse and I waited… sure enough, its desperation got the best of it. The man tried screaming but, as was usual now, his tongue was constantly removed as it grew back. I watched with satisfaction as the scared vermin ate through his stomach to try and escape the radiating heat. Figuring things out like this was fun! 

The items, though… they continue to speak. Their comments grow nastier each day, some demanding the blood I shed. The strange skull I found keeps whispering things to me. it keeps telling me that a new era is coming and I will have my part to play. I keep asking it over and over what it means but it only tells me to be patient. I don’t want to be patient anymore! I want to throw this skull across the room, watch it shatter and hopefully silence the demon hiding within it… but no, no, the magic hasn’t steered me wrong before. Not yet. I will listen. I will continue to move them around as they ask me, answer their questions, punish the ones who ask me to stop, to flee, to try and escape from my eventual fate. They tell me if I continue, the Lamb will not come for me. The Lamb won’t even appear; it’ll only be the Wolf and it won’t be sated until I’m completely devoured. I have fought wolves off from my livestock before; this one will be no different. For those objects that try to persuade me to leave the higher calling I was being promised, I tortured them as well. The mirror that keep calling out for me to stop was nothing more than a scratched piece of silver weeping and wishing for the time it was beautiful and not ruined. An intricately craved staff that claimed to be from the Archangels themselves had its delicate tips and filigree snapped off, one by one, until it screamed for the angels themselves to rescue it. 

The other items that tried to sway my mind fell silent. They knew if they spoke, I would destroy them too. And that skull… it would laugh whenever I destroyed other things. It told me I was perfect. I was going to be a good vessel for what was to come. I am ready. I will accept the task if it means getting even with those who put me in here. Until then, I’ll keep toying with them, let them try to figure out where everyone is going, why the bodies of the missing appear weeks after they had vanished and looking worse for wear. 

I can feel myself falling disheveled, but I no longer care about me, at least, appearance-wise. I will have a bigger part to play and I can’t be bothered with hygiene or trying to stay handsome. The hair I was once so proud of became greasy, stringy, dirty. It got long - too long. I tried tying it back but the way the hair pulled on my scalp anymore gave me such headaches! I can’t continue my work if I can’t think right. Instead, I took to braiding it. There was too much for one thick braid, so I wove the more troublesome locks up and out of the way. The string I had wasn’t strong enough alone to keep it tied… I needed something… something to bind it to… The curved metal pieces of the staff I snapped off were just thin enough to provide something for the string to catch and hair to bind to. Braiding the hair around that and then wrapping the sewing string around it, binding it like one would tether wood together for a fence worked wonders. 

That string also came in handy as I suffered a few more facial injuries. All but one came from a few spunky Order members who tried to fight back. No matter, I stitched them up like I did the others. Though, one of them I had gotten of my own clumsy volition. That blade that I found, charmed to stay sharp, had a length of chain hanging from the end of it. Stupidly, I picked it up and tried to spin the sickle. Why, I have no idea. Perhaps it was boredom kicking in, my mind shutting off any common sense. I ended up lodging it into my own face, the metal buried into my cheekbone and brow. That eye is no longer. I could tell when the vision when dark and I felt blood run down my face. Stupid. It was stupid of me. But what I did notice was the sound of the chains alarmed the few I had still alive. An interesting observation indeed. Maybe the next time I sneak out, I can steal some. Those would be fun to play with. They could be so versatile… to hold, to beat, to maim, to choke, to drag… I don’t know why I never thought to use them before. A note to myself, get a few lengths of chain. 

\- A. T.


	14. Guard's Log, Day 621

The Order is falling apart by my own hands. Half of them have been culled, the ones remaining are at each other’s throats, trying to figure out who is behind all this vanishing, this murder… meanwhile, I continue to play with the lucky ones I selected down below. I did finally get my hands onto some chains and I was right. The multiple ways I can use them… they have proven to be valuable beyond compare. What’s even better is if I keep them on my person, they jangle, and clink, and I can hear the whimpering from those I keep in the vault when I get closer. They know once the sounds of the chains get closer, I am about to pick one of them for a lucky little amount of alone time. The warlock himself is the one who reacts the best – he kicks and tries to scurry away. How fun it is to watch and hear!

The skull inside the vault continues to be loud. It still tells me to be patient, to wait, to be ready for my role that will soon be coming. Each day, I ask it if today is the day and it tells me no. Though it did divulge some interesting information to me. The Order hid the skull down here because they were afraid of its power. Apparently, it belonged to a mighty warlord who was taken down countless years ago and the skull wished to be reunited with its body. It told me that I would be granted a great deal of power if I helped it, if I did what it said when the time came… I agreed. Ever since I gave it my word, the skull has been keeping me company, reveling in the pain of others when I bring them down here, telling me stories that it can remember from when it was whole and in a body encased in iron armor, and even softly whispering to me as I fall asleep. It’s proving to be the best friend I have in this place, maybe on the Isles themselves.

Its telling me the time to act is soon.

Soon.

I can hardly wait.

I decided to slip out of the vault one more time. It has been weeks since I left and the Order, while on edge, seems to be quiet. I snuck upstairs and into the kitchen to steal some salted meat from the larder and I helped myself to some wine in the cupboard, along with some fresh water from the well outside. I couldn’t bare to be away from the vault for long. It was too quiet out here.

Yet I let myself have one luxury. I stripped off only the metal bits of my uniform and waded into the river outside. I scrubbed the faded blue jacket, trying to remove as much grime and whatever else had collected on the coat as possible, along with the thick pants. The clean water washing over me felt refreshing and I finally got a good look at myself for the first time in a long time.

I hardly recognized myself. My face, once so handsome and beautiful, was nothing more than a mangled mess of swollen stitching and infected sores. My rich, dark skin became dusty and pallid, and my hair was nothing more than a greasy mess of braids. Only then was I aware that I needed to take care of myself, otherwise I wouldn’t make it to the promised end. The garden than the Order tended to was not that far away. I trudged out of the river and dug through the mud until I produced a few bulbs of garlic. It wasn’t the first time I used garlic to disinfect a wound – that was a trick my good for nothing father taught me when I was small. I returned to the river and popped the infected wounds and let the blood and puss drip into the water before I cleaned them out with the fresh water. It strung! But I knew it would help. Once I was all clean, I took the garlic cloves back into the Order’s galley and found a mortar and pestle. For good measure, I added some salt and oregano into the bowl before grinding it into a powder. Then I crushed the garlic juice into it and made a paste and slapped it onto my face.

The pain was horrible, but I knew it would prevent the infections from getting worse. If I had more time, I could probably have found a salve …. But I started hearing movement from the bedrooms nearby and the footsteps of what was probably a guard coming my way. I ducked out of sight and made my way back down into the catacombs and to the vault and locked myself back in.

The skull laughed. All it said was what it has been saying for a while, now. ‘Soon.’


End file.
